


The Fresh Scent of Rain

by Wolf_of_Lilacs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, HP: EWE, One Measly Kiss, mostly pre-relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 06:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20961914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Lilacs/pseuds/Wolf_of_Lilacs
Summary: Hermione and Narcissa have an appointment. No, not that kind (yet).





	The Fresh Scent of Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Houseofmalfoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Houseofmalfoy/gifts).

> Begun for a prompt in the Cross Gen Fest several months ago. It's taken an unforgivably long time to finish it.
> 
> Credit goes to the lovely people of the Cissamione server for Narcissa's fashion choices.

When Hermione first saw Narcissa, she was at the entrance to a tube station, peering with forced casualness from beneath tightly furrowed brows. She clutched an umbrella between stiff fingers, her golden hair in damp ringlets about her face, and streaked with purple, if Hermione wasn't mistaken. How odd.

Hermione couldn't look away. But she had a job to do. Narcissa didn't notice her at first; she was checking the times for the next trains.

It hadn't rained yet, though the air was heavy with the fresh scent of it. 

"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione said, approaching her and holding out a hand.

"Black, now, if you please." Narcissa's voice was clipped. "Our divorce went through two weeks ago, thank god."

She was making an effort not to curse in the typical wixie way, Hermione noted. But perhaps that was just coincidence. Not worth putting in her notes. "Ah." Hermione smiled politely. "Are congratulations in order?"

"If you want." Now that she was closer, Hermione could see that not only had Narcissa died her hair, but she had also gotten her ears pierced. Her earrings were large silver hoops that went rather well with her blonde tresses.

"You've really gone for the fashion, haven't you?"

Narcissa pointedly glanced around at the other people waiting for the train.

Ah, right. People might overhear.

"I know why you're here, Miss Granger. I don't know why you didn't just meet me at my flat."

"I'm on my way there," Hermione admitted. "We can go the rest of the way together, if you don't mind the company."

Narcissa frowned. She clearly minded but didn't dare say so. Hermione hated that look. It made her feel a prickling discomfort.

The train arrived and they boarded in silence. They got off at the next stop. The walk to Narcissa's flat wasn't long, blessedly.

It was quite a nice flat, Hermione noticed. Very tidy. Very tastefully decorated. Narcissa peevishly gestured her to a leather—or at least leather-look-alike—sofa perpendicular to a window in the front room. "Would you like a drink?"

"I'll have whatever you're having, if that's all right."

Narcissa nodded briskly and hurried off to the kitchen to prepare a tea tray. This gave Hermione time to look around and collect herself. She ran over the list of questions she'd prepared. If Narcissa could answer them satisfactorily, then this program could be considered a success, and her time here could end if she chose. Otherwise—

Hermione preferred not to contemplate the _otherwise_.

Narcissa returned within a few minutes, tea tray balanced somewhat awkwardly between her hands. She was used to simply Levitating it, Hermione guessed. "So," Narcissa said, setting down the tray and sitting across from her in an armchair that matched the sofa in both color and snobbishness, "how may I help you?"

"I have a few questions about what you've been doing since this probation began." Hermione cleared her throat.

"It's been fine. I've done nothing beyond the stipulations of 'becoming familiar with Muggle culture' as you can see. I have not performed any magic. My log will confirm that."

"It does," Hermione said agreeably. "And thank you for volunteering for this experiment of ours." _Mine_, she thought a tad giddily.

Narcissa pursed glossed lips and hummed. "You would not do the same, would you, Miss Granger?"

Hermione stiffened. "That's neither here nor there."

"I suppose." Narcissa poured herself a cup of tea, pushed the pot closer to Hermione, and leaned back in her chair. "Ask your questions, if you must."

Hermione splashed some tea into her own cup. Relieved by Narcissa's cooperation, she took a breath and began. "So, I suppose… What have you been doing?"

"Seeing the sights, reading, more or less what I usually do in new places."

"And experimenting with Muggle fashion." Hermione grinned, eyeing Narcissa’s purple streaks appreciatively.

"That, too." Narcissa fingered one of her earrings a trifle self-consciously. "It's more varied and interesting than I expected. They really do come up with such exciting things without magic. Bless them." Her tone was light, but there was an odd curve to her mouth, and Hermione wondered if she was being toyed with.

"Going without magic is just another way of living. It's not inherently better or worse."

"Says the Muggle-born who can't even commit to doing without magic herself." Narcissa rolled her eyes. "How rich."

Hermione took a sip of her tea, her hand shaking enough to rattle the cup in its saucer—a flowery little thing, quite cute. "That isn't— Ms. Black, if you please, that isn't why I'm here." Why was she harping on this? "Do you know why you are here?"

A faint chuckle. "To learn that Muggles are just as human as any wix. Yes, yes, dear. I read the packet I was given."

Don't call me that, Hermione wanted to say, but this was going terribly enough already. But maybe dear was better than Mudblood, which Narcissa had so assiduously avoided. _Better_, if no less irksome.

"Ms. Black," Hermione said, after a deep breath. Her hands were sweaty, and she wiped them on her skirt. "What were you hoping to get out of this? A year is a long time. You could have refused—"

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "I was curious," she murmured. "But no, I couldn't have refused. A year in Azkaban would have been far worse. 'Azkaban is a horrible place that no wix deserves'."

Hermione nodded. She'd said those exact words when she'd proposed the probation program.

"Finish your questions, dear," Narcissa sighed. "I may have all afternoon, but I expect you don't."

Hermione's eyes pricked, and she glanced out the window. The rain had started in earnest.

The rest of the questions were answered without incident. Narcissa leaned back in her generously upholstered chair, telling Hermione rather expansively about her visits to parks, about the book club she'd joined that met on Thursdays. ("Their authors come up with ideas I've never dreamed of! Such imagination!") They both relaxed as the conversation flowed.

Hermione’s eyes kept darting away from Narcissa’s to linger on her lips, then back up. She hoped it had gone unnoticed.

She hadn't wanted to marry Lucius, Narcissa explained rather defensively at a lull in the conversation. Her sister had already been disowned (or rather, burned off the family tapestry by their vindictive aunt, to the weak protests of their parents) for eloping with a Muggle-born, and Narcissa was a coward in comparison. Besides, she added, a war was on.

"Ron and I hooked up during the Hogwarts battle," Hermione found herself admitting. "It was nice, for a while. It didn’t end well. He's still one of my best friends. We just…"

"These things don’t usually go the way we want them to." Narcissa's face softened, and her eyes were almost kind. It was a nice look on her.

"No," Hermione agreed. "Look, I, er…"

"Yes?"

"I don't really need to take your answers back to be reviewed." Hermione studied her fingers.

She heard Narcissa stand, felt the sofa dip as she perched on the other end. "They let you have a lot freedom with this."

"It's my project," Hermione muttered. Then, feeling she'd fallen into unprofessionalism, she glanced over at Narcissa and smiled. "You've given all the right answers and some I didn't expect from you."

"Good." Narcissa rose and offered Hermione her hand to shake, then walked her rather brusquely to the door. "I'm sure we'll meet again soon enough. There's a debriefing when I return, yes?"

This close, Hermione could smell Narcissa's faint perfume: light and floral, not overpowering, just the right amount. "Yes, that's right."

Narcissa opened the door to the rain. "Here," she said, "take my umbrella."

"I can use magic—"

"I insist." Narcissa passed the dark blue umbrella to her, and their hands brushed. And then Narcissa leaned a little too close as she ushered Hermione over the threshold, and her lips were warm on Hermione's, and the rain smelled wonderfully fresh.

(She had noticed Hermione’s wandering eyes, oh God…)

Hermione ended the kiss, breathless, her cheeks hot. "Ah, that…" She trailed off.

"Something to remember me by," Narcissa said easily, her lips curving in a wicked little smirk. "But if you aren't interested, that's all right, too. We can simply forget this happened You'll still need to return my umbrella, however." She winked.

Hermione inhaled, let it out. "I'll see you at the debriefing," she said. "I'll remember." She winked in return. Narcissa was still smiling.

Hermione walked down the stairs and caught her train, her steps light. She'd remember, and she couldn't _wait_ until the debriefing.


End file.
